


Prey of the Ocelot

by playmelikeadamnfiddle



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: F/M, Light BDSM, Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain, Sexual Frustration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:53:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29226537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/playmelikeadamnfiddle/pseuds/playmelikeadamnfiddle
Summary: The thought of his gloves around your neck could bring you to your knees
Relationships: Ocelot (Metal Gear)/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Prey of the Ocelot

**Author's Note:**

> I spent the last year watching my husband play through the Metal Gear series, and fell in love with the characters and lore! I also found MGSV Ocelot extremely charismatic and sexy (lol), and felt compelled to write a super short imagining about him.

The ghost of his hand lingered on your throat, long after he left you. Random twinges from when he held you, choked you, made you wet from the memory. His scent permeated your skin and your hair, of worn leather and dark coffee, gun powder and peppermint somewhere in the mix. Your neck was mottled beautiful shades of blue and green, a fact that was hidden by the red scarf he had given you ( _ordered you to wear, purring his demand, tying it a little too tight_ ), but you knew it was crystal clear to everyone else on Mother Base why you had recently started wearing a scarf matching that of Ocelot’s. Your body was covered in bruises and scratches ( _an Ocelot always marks his property, he growled while running his nails down your back_ ), and although you tried your best to conceal them, you knew he took pride knowing that he was placing those marks for all to see. “It’s a damn shame to defile something so beautiful”, he crooned after examining his work one night. You were his property, and you loved it.  
  
Long nights of (tortuous) passion left you exhausted, the dark circles under your eyes almost meeting the same shade as the blotted color on you neck. The exhaustion always left you two steps behind him, which he used to his advantage. During the days, he ignored you. This was almost as painful as the attention he paid you at night. You craving anything during the day. Just a glance, anything. At first, you tried attracting his attention with subtle flirting or a passing remark, but he flashed those gunmetal eyes at you, and with the slightest upturn of his lips ( _god what those lips have done to your body_ ), barely whispered “I’ll fucking deal with you later”. If the two of you happened to be out of sight, he’d grab you by the throat, the softness of those leather gloves finding their way home, and promise the dangers that would befall you by challenging his authority.  
  
This was one of those situations.  
“Y-yes sir” fell out of your gasping, panting mouth, which hungered for his punishment, in rapture from his touch. Your eagerness elicited a chuckle from his lips, which were now grazing your ear.  
“Good girl”, he breathed, “I won’t have to punish you tonight....too hard”.


End file.
